A RUSSIAN LES MISERABLES
by EJM513
Summary: A preview for "A Russian Les Miserables", a Les Miz fan fic that takes place from 1905-1918 in Russia. Please review and let me know if it is worth writing a full version. Preview rated K , real probably T for historical content and language.


**AN: HELLO! I AM SORT'OF ON A LES MISERABLES KICK (I CAN'T HELP MYSELF, IT'S JUST SO AMAZING). I GOT THIS IDEA-THE BASIC STORY OF LES MISERABLES BUT SET DURRING THE RUSSIAN REVOULTION AND THE BEGINNING OF THE RUSSIAN CIVIL WAR. :D THIS IS A PREVIEW TO SEE HOW IT WORKS AND SEE IF ANYONE LIKES IT. PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW IF I SHOULD CONTINUE, SINCE I HAVE SO MANY OTHER NEGLECTED (NOT PURPOSELY) FAN FICTIONS ALONG WITH SCHOOL. YES FRENCH NAMES WILL BE USED… CUZ IT GETS TO COMPLICATED TO TRANSLATE. **

**DISCLAIMER: YOU MEAN I DON'T OWN LES MISERABLES?! :-O THAT EXPLAINS WHY I'M NOT A GLIZZIONAIRE AND LIVING IN A MANSION IN ST. PETERSBERG. :( THAT EXPLAINS SO MUCH….**

A RUSSIAN LES MISERABLES

**SETTING: YEKATERINBURG, RUSSIA, JULY 17****TH**** 1918**

**SUMMORY: MARIUS AND HIS FRIENDS HAVE GOTTEN WRAPPED UP IN THE OCTOBER REVOLUTION AND THEY NOW FIND THEMSELVES IN THE MIDDLE OF A CRUCIAL AND TRAGIC EVENT DURRING THE RUSSIAN CIVIL WAR. **

The moment had finally approached, the moment Marius believed he had been longing for since the dawn of the Revolution. The minutes ticked on painfully, causing his throat to close with each passing second. This reaction was not from the thrill and excitement of what was to occur that evening, what he was about to do. Marius had always stood beside Enjolras, agreed with everything hateful word that spewed from his mouth. He thought he truly believed in the words he heard, truly believed that the Tsar was the root of all evil and the problems in the country. Yet as he stood in silence, holding his gun he couldn't help but to feel the awesome weight of the cold object in his hands. His eyes trailed down to the sliver pistol, and for the first time he began to question the cause he fought for.

Having grown up with his Grandfather, Marius had been thought to believe the Tsar was God. He had been thought to worship and love him. In fact, thanks to his Grandfather's position he had went to the Tsarkoey Selo, and the Winter Palace a number of times. He could still remember playing tennis with the family, remember going on horseback rides with the girls and the Tsar himself. Marius had even gone to a hand full of their balls, much to the chagrin of Enjolras. The hot tempered blonde would mock his friends for at least two days after such an event, reminding him of the atrocities. Marius sighed and closed his eyes as he attempted to remember how he had allowed his friend to invade his mind, had allowed himself to be drawn into a horrid mess. Enjolras claimed that the colors of the world were forever changing, turning from the ugliest black to the most brilliant and vibrant red. He claimed that the Tsar should have stepped down after the events of Bloody Sunday. The young comrade couldn't help but to smirk slightly at the thought his friend's opinions on the matter. Both were only children when that occurred, no older than seven years old. What did he know on the matter, aside from what he heard from strange figures such as Lenin and his Bolsheviks. He quickly realized he had no right to call them strange, for he was now one of them.

As the seconds continued to tick on and on, Marius continued to fall deeper and deeper into his own thoughts. For the longest month he could remember he tried hard as good not to think of his true tasked and did his job. He tried to blend into the shadows, but the family recognized him with in his first day at "The House of Special Purpose". Marius could not help but to shudder at the thought of that name, or was it because his gun suddenly grew ice cold? The nick name of the house itself made it painfully clear what they were to do. That was the reason Enjolras desired to take a position at "The House of Special Purpose", for both knew that if they did it would mean the chance to do what they had dreamed to do for years… kill the Tsar and his wife. It got even better for his hot headed comrade, when it became clear that they were not only going to the kill the former Tsar and Tsarina, but their five children as well. His words from the evening before were still engrained in Marius's soul, and caused his stomach to churn every time he heard the lack of emotion in his voice. He knew his lifelong comrade was not a bad man, a little too passionate and stubborn but not bad. Marius knew Enjolras truly believed his was fighting not only for the common good of Russia but the world. "_Sure, he believes he is changing the world for the better, but is this the way to go about it?_" Marius thought to himself.

That was when the sound all had been waiting to hear was heard. All heads turned towards the same direction as they listened to soft footsteps walking past them. It did not take the sharpest of minds to know who were being brought down to the cellar. Marius suddenly felt his stomach begin to churn, felt his gun suddenly weigh as much as a cinder block. He could feel his hand begin to subtitle shake as terror filled his lungs. There was a need for change, the young Bolshevik knew that was painfully obvious. The old order was damaging the country, and holding it's people back. Yet at that precise moment a bolt of lightning hit Marius. He was suddenly aware that he had gotten in over his head. He was not a fierce revolutionist like that of his comrade, for though he wanted to see change he was not prepared to take a life. Without an inkling of doubt, Marius knew he could not kill his victim. He thought he might feel different he had been assigned to end the Tsar's life, but he had been chosen to kill one of the children, Anastasia to be exact. One could imagine how his heart contracted at the thought, of killing one of the purest souls he had ever met. Enjolras might have been willing to take the life of an ill child, but Marius was almost brought to his knees at the idea.

Suddenly the door opened and a short man with a black mustache entered. All stood erected and attentive, focusing solely on their leader as he walked into the center off the small room. Once there, he cleared his throat and began to talk. "Men, the time has come to finally ride Russia of their oppressor. It is now or never. You all have your assignments, you know who to kill. If there is any who have weak souls, turn over your gun now and leave."


End file.
